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The hungry caterpillar tugged on the sinew flesh stuck on the joints of the carcass. The hungry caterpillar didnt usually eat the extricated remains of the plenty of dead animals around but there were just so many to come across. And it. Was. just. So. hungry. Hungry, it groaned out between grinding teeth. Evolution hadn't distended its neck yet, so it could impressively speak and spit and recite Shakespeare at the same time with food going down its throat. Try it, you might choke.
The ridiculous heat spoke for itself. It was hot. The ectothermic hungry caterpillar couldnt sweat off its balls but it could whine and whiny and chew a little quicker, the release of frustration only expediting more valuable calories. The journey across the savannah was a grueling day and night task, causing a rigor mortis like cramping to his vestibular body and in the crepuscular light it looked like a slightly green turd. catatonic hippo skulls peaking through the niles murky depth resembled flatstones but dont take this into account to step on them. Theyre particularly light sleepers and you end up cannon fodder.
God is dead was scribbled in Sanskrit on the termite hill. And while Sanskrit was an expansive language, the slightly less hungry caterpillar wondered what it was doing in Namibia. Underneath was the first line in chapter three of charles dickens, a tale of two cities. A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other. A solemn consideration, when I enter a great city by night, that every one of those darkly clustered houses encloses its own secret; that every room in every one of them encloses its own secret; that every beating heart in the hundreds of thousands of breasts there, is, in some of its imaginings, a secret to the heart nearest it! You gotta wonder, who the hell had the time. Not the caterpillar, as it was still busy traversing the transversal savannah. It was yet to capsize why-well, because it was a foolish reason. You see-
The narrator, a merman sitting in a rock ensnared by algae, was throttled off by a surfacing humpback. Ahem alright presuming on, he said, clearing his throat. The caterpillar knew no water-well-you know what maybe we should move on, were gonna have a 100% viewer retention. The caterpillar-not hungry-just tired, sqimmied on(yes, a word word i made solely to descend the pathetic wiliness of it all) and ended up in a tunnel flanked by large trees. Come on this was the gob-wait no, sahara. The caterpillar, quelled by a churning curiosity, stauntered in and-oh my, the cave, that cave was a whole ‘nother story.
Dramatic static spiraling in the intercom.
What the fuck jeoffery, we just asked if the platoon was ‘lright. Whats all crazy bird you spittin boy.
Sorry sir, it must have been the rations. What do you guys put in thos-
‘Lright, thats it.